


Dead to Rights

by Circe Invidiosa (Invida)



Category: Dead Like Me, The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Prompt Fic, dead like me season 2, x-files season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 10:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invida/pseuds/Circe%20Invidiosa
Summary: a "what if" XF/Dead Like Me crossover. George and Mason are brought in for questioning by the Feds.





	Dead to Rights

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in 2008. Lost a big chunk of it when I lost a USB stick in 2011. And started writing it again last month when [doctorhelena](https://doctorhelena.tumblr.com/) answered [this post](http://invidiosa.tumblr.com/post/178212797097/50-dialogue-prompts) and asked for #45 ("How much of that did you hear?"). This is all your fault, [doctorhelena](https://doctorhelena.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Takes place sometime in Season 7 of the X-files after _Closure_ and in Season 2 of Dead Like Me.

Der Waffle Haus  
8AM

“You're an idiot.”

“And just _what_ do you mean by that?” Mason asked Roxy with a hand to his chest.

“I keep telling you he's a fuck-up.” Rube said, not even glancing up from his newspaper. 

Roxy turned to George. “And you? You're supposed to know better than him by now. We all fuckin' know better than him by the time we get to your age.”

“I'm 18!” George cried.

“You think you can keep makin' that excuse? You've been dead for longer than you've been 18," Roxy argued. "He died in '66. I died in '82 and in 3 hours I already knew better than him."

George sat back in the booth and sulked. “I thought you said it would blow over. Why isn't it blowing over?”

Roxy shook her head. “Not this time, little girl. They called in the Feds. You know what that means?”

“You didn't do your job?” George shot back, earning her a glare from Roxy.

“Yeah,” Mason put in. “Aren't you in the police to make sure things don't escalate to these kinds of levels?”

Rube put his newspaper down and leaned forward. “She's a cop because that's what she's good at. If you weren't so good at fucking up, then you wouldn't be a fuck-up.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Well what are we supposed to do about these so-called Feds if she's not going to help us?”

“Even if I could help you, which I can't, I wouldn't. You've gotta learn sometime.” Roxy said.

Mason threw his arms in the air. “Oh, I see how it is. Now when things are just a little bit dicey you abandon us. I can understand you not helping me. But what about innocent li'l George here? Won't someone think of Georgie?”

Daisy breezed over to their booth. “Hello all! What did I miss?” Rube leaned across the table and handed her a Post-It, then immediately went back to reading his paper.

“FBI's comin' in to talk to these two morons.” Roxy pointed across the table at George and Mason. 

Daisy sighed wistfully. “I seduced an FBI agent once. Of course, back then they weren’t called FBI agents -"

“Save it, please, Daisy,” Rube interrupted her reminiscence. “You’ve got an appointment.”

“Well, that's my cue.” Daisy turned to leave.

Mason stopped her. “Et tu, Daisy?”

Daisy shrugged and waved her Post-It and left.

George turned to Roxy. “So what is the FBI going to ask us that your regular cop buddies haven't already? Why'd they have to be called in anyway? I thought you said that there was no evidence!”

“Word to the wise, Peanut,” Rube said, “Whininess does not make you cute. Try putting your hair in pigtails when the Feds grill you.”

Roxy said, "Some higher-up called it in. Said it had some markers that this special unit was investigating. I don’t know what it could possibly be 'cause, against my better judgement, I cleaned up your file."

George nodded as though she understood. "So you’re saying it _is_ your fault."

Roxy stuck a finger in George's face. "Watch it, girly. I’ve done my part. I don’t have to do any more."

"Rube, you have to make her make this go away!" Mason pleaded. "Aren’t you supposed to be in charge? Isn’t it your duty to make sure this group runs smoothly?"

Rube slammed the newspaper on the table and turned to Roxy. "Can you make sure they get out in time to make their appointments?"

Roxy shrugged. "I can try."

Rube turned back to Mason. "There. Duty done. Don’t tell me how to do my job again." He picked up the newspaper, shook it out, and disappeared behind it again.

 

\----------

State Route 509  
8:30AM

"So let me see if I have this." Scully put down the file folder and stared out the rental car windshield. "There is nothing remotely paranormal about the way these people died. There isn't even a whiff of foul play --"

"Nope. Nada." Mulder said spiritedly while tapping on the steering wheel as he drove. 

Scully had been studying the backgrounds of the people they were going to interview. It was their photos that made her stop. There was something in how unremarkable they looked that caused her to look away. As though she _wanted_ to not notice these people even when she was looking right at their photos. It almost made her shiver. But a creepy feeling hardly fell under the supernatural heading.

Scully continued. "But we're here because at least one person was at the scene of these accidents, calling out the name of the deceased prior to the accident --"

Mulder interrupted, finger raised. "And acting suspiciously nonchalant when the accident occurred."

"Excuse me, but how does one act 'suspiciously nonchalant'?" Scully asked. A red eye flight and bad airport coffee were not making her less irritable or Mulder less irritating. She was getting too old for this.

"Is the normal reaction to someone falling out a fourteenth story window detached indifference? Wouldn't you be suspicious of someone who seemed bored by that?"

Scully shrugged. "Everyone reacts to shock differently."

"Does anyone react to it by talking to an imaginary person immediately afterwards?"

"So we're in Seattle to interrogate two people who were ID'ed at the scene of an accident acting atypically. Not criminals. Just crazy people."

“As a medical professional should you really be using an adjective like ‘crazy’?” Mulder asked.

Scully ignored him. "And you're not going to supply me with your theory as to why these crazy people are doing this."

Mulder grinned. "Just waiting for you to ask."

Scully sighed. Yeah. Definitely too old for this. 

 

\----------

Interrogation Room B  
10:10AM

George was slumped across the table, running her thumbnail over a pentagram carved into the surface, probably years before she was even born, judging by the dated furniture in the interrogation room.

Roxy, or Officer Harvey, as she'd been told to call her, had just stopped in and told her the Feds were in with Mason.

The door opened as she was about to trace the star for the fourteenth time. In walked two serious looking suits – a short redheaded woman and a tall dark-haired guy. She figured these two were what the word 'dour' was reserved for.

George stopped tracing the pentagram but didn't sit up straight. The redhead sat primly across from her, while the guy stood in the corner with his arms crossed. The redhead opened the file folder she'd brought with her and began flipping the pages. It was a full minute before she said, "Mildred Hagen?"

"Millie," George replied. She still wanted to kill Rube for that god-awful alias.

"Millie. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully and that's Special Agent Fox Mulder. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions about the accident you witnessed last week."

George sat back and shrugged. "I don't know what I can tell you that I haven't already told the cops. Besides, it was an _accident_."

"Yes, well, we're following up based on some information that just came to light surrounding this accident," Scully said. She wouldn't meet George's eyes. Snob.

"You seem rather defensive," Mulder said from the corner.

George sneered. "Wouldn't you be defensive? I mean, I witnessed a horrible accident. I'm just trying to forget what happened and move on. Instead, I'm hauled back in the police station because – I don't even know because!"

"We're just following up, Ms. Hagen. There's no need to get worked up," Scully interjected. "At the time of the accident, you were with your friend, Mason."

"Yes." What was with her, George wondered. Who did this Scully think she was? She wouldn't even look at her. Weren't they supposed to be intimidating her and staring her down? This was far more unnerving.

"How do you know Mason?" Scully asked.

"We belong to the same club."

"What kind of club?" Mulder asked.

"Scrapbooking."

"You and your friend Mason witness a lot of accidents," Scully said. She flipped through the pages of the folder again. "Why do you think that is?"

George shrugged again. "Unlucky, I guess." 

"Wanna know what I think?" asked Mulder. He stepped over to the table.

"Not particularly," George mumbled. 

Mulder ignored her, leaned across the table and said, "I think you have to."

George looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"It's your job, isn't it?"

Holy shit. George blinked at him then started speaking at a rapid-fire pace. "Uh, I work at Happy Time Temp Services. You know, clerical work. I don't know what _you_ think we do there, but you can call my boss, Delores --"

"Why does he call you 'George'?" Scully interrupted.

George's head whipped around to Scully. "What?"

Was this their act? Pepper her with unrelated questions? They were hoping for what, exactly? 

"Your friend, Mason," Scully replied, "He calls you George. But you said your name is Millie."

Rube was right. Mason was a fuck-up. "It's just a stupid pet name."

"Where does it come from?"

"That's personal," George replied.

Scully's eyebrow arched, and she scribbled something in her notebook. George tried to see what she wrote, but Scully turned the page before she could see.

"What do you do at Happy Time?" Mulder asked.

"Data entry."

"Your boss," Scully said, checking off her notes, "Ms. Herbig, says you have to take a lot of time off. That you'll disappear for hours at times during the day."

George threw her hands up. "So? If Delores doesn't have a problem with it then who cares?"

"Where do you go during that time?" Scully asked with a calmness that infuriated George. But it infuriated her more that Scully still wouldn't look at her.

"Errands," George snapped.

"What kind of errands have you visiting an office building you don't work at in the middle of the day? We have you on security footage at the entrance, the elevators, and back out the entrance just before the accident occurred."

"I work for a temp agency. We temp at office buildings. That kind of errand." 

"Is that what you call it? Errands?" Mulder asked.

George shook her head, finding the arrogance he was trying to give off comical. "Look, buddy, I really don’t know _what_ you're getting at."

"I think you know exactly what I'm getting at, Azrael." Mulder sat on the table beside George.

"What did you call me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you prefer Ankou? Or maybe Thanatos?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" George turned to Scully, waving her arms wildly at Mulder. "Why is he calling me those fucked up names? My name is George!"

Scully's eyebrow arched again. "George?"

"I mean Millie! Whatever!" shouted George with frustration.

"George-Millie-Whatever," Mulder said coolly. "I know what you were doing at that building that day. I know what you do on your 'errands'. I know what you are and what you want."

George turned back to Mulder with her eyes narrowed. "You don’t have a fucking clue about what I want."

"Surprise me. What do you want?"

"I want my lawyer."

 

\----------

Observation Room B  
10:30AM

"She doesn't need a lawyer, Mulder. Why are you letting her go through with this?" 

Mulder stared at the person named Millie or George or whatever through the two-way mirror. "Because I want to see who comes for her."

Scully leaned against the wall beside the mirror, facing Mulder. There was something about this girl. She felt physically compelled to look away from her. She kept her eyes on Mulder even as he continued to look through the mirror at Mildred. "And do you honestly think Charon is going to come sailing on in here?"

Mulder glanced at Scully with surprise. Scully shrugged. "You're not the only one who's ever read mythology."

"Death can't work alone, Scully. It can't possibly be everywhere at once as a single entity. If these two today are any indication, there's probably a whole network acting as Death."

"But you're thinking of Death from a human, physical point of view, Mulder. In a spiritual sense, why can't Death be everywhere?"

"I'm looking at it from a human point of view because the soul is human and to take one is a physical act."

"So you're saying that everywhere in the world there are there are people employed to act as Death? Like mall Santas?"

"Crude analogy," Mulder shrugged. "But something like that."

Scully shook her head. "That's not how it works."

Mulder laughed. "Your skepticism can't possibly have an explanation for Death, Scully."

"No, but my experience can." She didn't continue once she saw Mulder's smile falter. 

"But you didn't die. It wasn't your time. These guys didn't show up," Mulder pointed at Millie-George through the one-way mirror. "And that's why you're still here."

These guys. True, she never saw someone like 'these guys' when she lay in the hospital, cancer ravaging her body. And she didn't see these guys when she sat on the floor with Fellig, nearly bleeding out. But she can't explain what she saw then because Fellig told her not to look and she didn't. Maybe that's why she couldn’t even look at this Millie-George-whatever person.

"Even if you think that's true, what are you hoping to find out, here?"

"I want to know what happens! Don't you want to know?"

"Does this have anything to do with what happened at April Air Force Base? With Samantha?"

Mulder winced briefly before asking, "And if it does?"

"I thought you said you understood what happened. I thought you were satisfied."

"It doesn't mean I don't want to know more. That maybe I could find the person that helped her move on. Wouldn't you want to know who took your father or your sister if you could?"

Scully walked over to the door. Through its window, she could see Officer Harvey leading a still weeping Mason away. That guy started blubbering after less than two minutes of questioning. She couldn't believe Mulder seriously thought this guy was capable of getting dressed in the morning, let alone being Death. 

She opened the door and walked out. "I know enough."

 

\----------

Interrogation Room B  
11:30AM

"You want to know what this is like, Peanut? Dealing with you?" Rube asked, throwing his folded newspaper on the table, then his cap on top of it. 

"You're going to tell me anyway."

"It's like being hit by a car. You bounce off the windshield, roll off the hood, stand up and dust yourself off. You laugh and think, hey I'm okay. Then the damn car backs up and runs you over."

"Is that how you died?" George asked.

Rube narrowed his eyes at her. "With the trouble you're in right now, Peanut, maybe mouthing off at me isn't your very best idea."

"Yeah, well what about my appointment?"

"You're gonna have to trade with Roxy. Her appointment is here in the building, so you'll be able to take that. And she'll take yours since she doesn't let herself get detained by FBI agents."

George rolled her eyes. Yes, today, she needs anther lecture. "I thought you said we couldn't trade."

"Not supposed to, but since you got yourself into this mess, needs must."

George threw her hands up. "This isn't my fault. They _know_! They knew before they even walked in the room. They knew before they talked to Mason! They just fucking know!"

Rube sat down beside her at the table. "They don't know shit."

 

\----------

11:45AM

Scully let Mulder walk in the room first. It was ridiculous, but entering the room second gave her the option of not looking at this Millie person and now her lawyer.

Introductions were made, and then they arranged themselves. This time Mulder sat down facing Millie, while Scully took the remaining chair, facing Millie's attorney. Scully took her time laying out the files and her notes.

"So, you're Ms. Hagen's lawyer, Mr. Sofer?" Mulder started. 

"Millie summoned me and I'm here. You can call me Rube, by the way."

"Excuse me for saying this," Mulder said, "but you don't look much like a lawyer."

Scully finally looked up at this man. He wore beat-up leather bomber jacket, khakis and a casual collared shirt. In front of him was a newspaper and a flat cap. His hands were clasped tightly and he wore a grimace on his face that looked like a permanent expression. 

Rube gave a conciliatory nod. "She gets what she pays for."

Scully said, "Well, Mr. Sofer - Rube - we'd like to know why she's present for and witness to so many of Seattle's major accidents and more gruesome deaths. We've found footage for multiple incidents where she is in the crowd or has been questioned."

Rube sat back, with a grin. "Not a crime, as far as I know. Didn't even need my fancy law degree to tell you that."

"And if we did some more digging, how many crime scenes and accident photos would we find you in, Rube?" Mulder asked.

George nudged Rube. "See, I told you." Scully could just hear what she'd said.

Rube held up a hand in front of her face to stop her from talking. "You'll have to excuse my young client here. She's not very versed in the old saying 'let your lawyer do the talking'."

"And what does her lawyer have to say?" Mulder asked.

"First things first," Rube said, "Millie here says she needs to use the facilities. Any chance she can just pop out?"

Mulder nodded. "That's fine. Agent Scully can take her while you and I chat."

Scully's head jerked up to look at Mulder. They hadn't discussed the possibility of separating the girl and her lawyer. Had he gleaned something from the lawyer that he wanted to explore alone? Why was he sticking her with babysitting Millie? Or did he think she stood a better chance with getting something from her? Mulder seemed to rile Millie more than she had.

"That's okay, Agent Mulder. I know the way," George said, standing. 

"Been here before then, huh?" Mulder smirked. "Still, we wouldn't want you distracted by another accident on your way, would we, Scully?"

Agent Scully barely concealed her eye roll and stood up herself. "Let's go."

Rube put a hand out to stop George from leaving. "Why don't you have one of the officers escort her? Wouldn't want Agent Scully to miss anything, would you?"

Scully narrowed her eyes at Rube. "You seem rather intent on keeping me in the room, Mr. Sofer. Why is that?"

Rube held his palms up. "I just think it would be a colossal waste of time for someone of your qualifications to have to listen to someone going to the bathroom. Someone who isn't under arrest or suspicion of any kind. Unless there's something you're not telling us."

"I'll be the judge of what's a waste of my time, Mr. Sofer. Ms. Hagen, let's go."

 

\---------

11:56AM  
Police Station Hallway 

George opened the door and passed into the corridor. She had seen Roxy through the window in the interrogation room door before they'd left the room. When Scully turned towards the door to let them out, Roxy ducked out of the way.

All George had to do was switch Post-Its with Roxy, find out where her reap was, do her business, and then get back to this crazy interrogation. But now that Scully was coming with her, she just hoped Roxy read the situation and figured out another plan. She let out a long exhale when she saw Roxy slip into the ladies' room down the hallway. 

"Lead the way, Ms. Hagen," Scully said curtly.

George started down the hall. "Mind if I ask you a question?" George didn't wait for her to reply. "You don't seem as enthusiastic about questioning me and Mason as Agent Mulder does."

"That wasn't a question."

"What exactly are you investigating?" George asked as she opened the ladies' room door.

"I wish I knew, some days," Scully muttered. George was sure she wasn't meant to hear that, because right after, Scully immediately said, "We investigate unexplained phenomena, especially in unsolved cases."

George hoped Scully didn't hear her swallowing the large lump that had formed in her throat. "But there's nothing unsolved here and nothing unexplained. It was an accident. Natural causes."

Scully tilted her head at George. "What's natural about someone falling out a fourteenth story window?"

George shrugged. "Sure, it's not something you see every day, but he wasn't shot, or strangled, or decapitated, or stabbed. He was just trying to open a window and became a pancake for his efforts."

"And how do you know that's what he was trying to do?"

George bit her lip. Fuck. Why didn't she just wear a T-shirt saying, 'I'm a Reaper. Ask me about my Post-It'? 

"I don't. I was trying to be funny. You know? If you can't laugh, et cetera." George snapped on the light. "Oh, it's a single. I guess I'll take it from here."

"That's fine. I'll be out here." Scully looked as relieved as George felt as she stepped away from her.

George let the door close and then turned the lock. Roxy's hand appeared in front of her face with her Post-It. George snatched it and pulled her own Post-It from her pocket, now a crumpled ball, tossing it to Roxy.

"How much of that did you hear?" George whispered.

"Enough. Doesn't mean they know anything."

"That's what Rube said." George read the Post-It and slipped it into her pocket.

"And you should listen to him."

George stuck her tongue out at Roxy who just pointed a finger at her as a warning. "Where's Mason?"

"They let him go after he started bawling. That's why I know they don't know anything. They would've held him otherwise. He's gonna meet us at the Waffle Haus when you're sprung."

"Where am I gonna find this reap?"

"This is the one and only time I'm gonna help you this much and it's just because of extenuating circumstances. Now listen, you gotta time this right. Your reap is gonna be brought out of holding within the next five minutes and brought down this hallway. This is what he looks like." Roxy held up a mug shot. "Think you can stall until he gets here?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Do we ever? Now get outta here so I can leave. It smells worse than Mason in here."

"You should pay your cleaning staff better," George said, as she flushed the toilet and turned on the tap for the requisite amount of time.

"All of us should be paid better," Roxy said, positioning herself behind the door again so Agent Scully wouldn't see her. 

George turned the lock and walked out to find Scully on the opposite wall, arms crossed, staring up at the ceiling down the hall. George followed her eyes to the flickering hanging florescent light. And that's when George saw it – a graveling messing with the cables that held the canopy up. Scully couldn't possibly see the graveling, could she?

George cleared her throat. Scully turned, glancing at George, and then turned back to where the graveling was. The hall was now empty. Scully shook her head, blinking several times. She pushed herself off the wall and jerked her thumb towards the interrogation room again.

"So, Agent Scully," George put on her best smile, "first time in Seattle?"

 

\----------

12:00PM  
Interrogation Room B

"Why don't we just cut to the chase, Agent Mulder." They'd been giving each other the silent treatment since Agent Scully left with George.

George was right. God, he hated this. Not that she figured this guy out. No, Rube was proud of her for that. He always knew she was smart and could read situations quickly. He just hated when he had to straighten shit like this out. Why couldn't people just mind their own business and let the metaphysical happen the way it was supposed to?

Mulder leaned back in his chair. "Let's."

"You think you know what Millie does. You probably think I do it, too. So what do you want to know." He was going to have to concede something, he knew, but not everything.

"Everything."

Rube shook his head and almost laughed at Mulder's entitlement. "That's not going to happen. So be more specific."

Mulder righted his chair, the legs scraping as he moved closer. "If I want to find out which one of you took a certain person, could I?"

"There's no point, Mr. Mulder."

"Why the hell not?"

"Let me tell you a story. There was a girl. She was 18, had her whole life ahead of her. Didn't know what she wanted to do with herself though. She was paralyzed with her own indecision and it made her confused and angry, lashing at anyone who tried to help her. Her parents didn't get her and she wouldn't let them."

"Her and every other teenager," Mulder muttered.

"But she wasn't any other teenager. One day out of the blue, she was killed in a freak accident. Nothing anybody could've done to stop it. No way the day could've gone any different. Nobody in her life including her got any closure or resolution. Now she's just known for what happened to her rather than what she might've been or done."

"Is there a moral to this story, Mr. Sofer?"

Rube pointed to his newspaper. "Tomorrow, there will be another tragedy, like hers, like whoever you lost. How would knowing the people who got them where they needed to go help _you_ specifically?"

"Knowledge can only help. Knowing if they were okay –"

"There is no knowing that. Even from the people you think have that information. It's the called The Unknown for a reason."

"But if we know what happens then we won't be so afraid of death. Of people like you."

"People like me," Rube repeated with a wry laugh. "I'll try not to take that as an insult."

"You know what I mean."

"Nope. Not really. I think I’m a pretty decent guy, who's got a job to do. And I do it well. Because there're reasons and rules for how and why it happens the way it happens. And I follow them. And just 'cause you want to know isn't going to change any of that. You're not the first person who has wanted that kind of information, you won't be the last. But none of you are getting it."

Mulder crossed his arms. "Well, that's not fair."

"And that's not for you or me to decide." Rube picked up his newspaper and leaned back in his chair. It was just a matter of waiting this out now.

 

\----------  
  
12:04PM  
Police Station Hallway

George was still coming up with inane questions to stall for time. Finally, Mugshot Guy - or L. Borozan, as the Post-It identified him – was being escorted in handcuffs by a uniformed cop. As they passed, George reached out and let her palm graze Mugshot Guy's inked forearm, saying, "Nice tats." The familiar wisps of sparkling gold rose up from where her hand connected with him.

"Hey! No touching!" yelled Mugshot Guy's chaperone. George held her hands up in mock surrender.

Scully frowned at George, but again gestured for her to get going. George turned back, figuring Mugshot Guy must be under the light fixture by now. That's when the cables on one side of the canopy snapped and the fixture swung down, pivoting like a pendulum around the other side where it was still supported. The canopy hit Mugshot Guy square on the back of the head, and he fell to the floor in a heap.

Scully drew her firearm and pointed it towards the noise. When she saw there was no threat, she ran over to Mugshot Guy's body, yelling, "I'm a medical doctor! Please let me through."

Meanwhile, Mugshot Guy's soul strode over to George. "Did you see dat?" he asked in a thick Eastern European accent. He slapped his hands together. "BAM!"

"But you're dead!" She'd never get used to people's reactions when they died.

"Yah, but what kind of odds it happen like dat?"

"Let me guess – bookie?"

He nodded vigorously and pointed at himself. "Lucky Luka!"

"Well Lucky, you won the big one today." 

The interrogation room opened, and Agent Mulder joined the commotion around Luka's body, passing through Luka's soul as he went by. Rube came up behind George and patted her shoulder. "That's our cue, Peanut."

"C'mon Lucky. Know when to fold 'em." George said.

As soon as they were outside, Luka oohed and walked off towards the parking lot. 

"All right, Peanut. We're outta here," Rube said as Luka's soul disappeared from their view.

"Are they done with us?" George asked, jerking her thumb towards the police station.

Rube nodded. "They're done enough."

"But they'll come back, won't they? They know how to find us."

"They're not coming back."

"How do you know? What did you tell him?" George asked, frowning.

"I told him a story."

"One of your stories that goes nowhere with the inscrutable moral we can never figure out? Well then, I'm taking the long way to Der Waffle Haus in case I get followed."

"You do what you need to do, Peanut."

 

\----------

George & Daisy's House  
7:52PM

Daisy answered the knock at the door. "Yes?"

"Is Mildred Hagen home?"

George cringed at the voice she heard but promptly came to the door. "I got it, Daisy."

"Just as well. I'm going out anyway." Daisy turned her body to slip pass Agent Scully on her way out the door. "Say, has anyone ever told you that you're spitting image of Carol Lombard?"

"Just go already, Daisy!" George gave Daisy a shove.

"By the way, that's a good thing, Red. Carol was a pistol," Daisy said to Scully as George gave her another push. She hopped down to the sidewalk then sauntering down the street. When Daisy was out of earshot, George turned to Scully. "Do I need to call my lawyer? Because he made it sound like we were done."

"No, you don't need him. Agent Mulder seems satisfied with whatever he told him."

"Then why are you here?"

"I – I have my own questions, I guess. Off the record."

"Oooookay." George crossed her arms and leaned against the door. "Shoot."

Scully inhaled deeply before she said, "What I saw today. You – you saw it too, right?"

"The accident? I mean, we were turned the other way, I just sorta caught it in my peripheral –"

"No, before that. The light fixture. That thing on the light."

George's eyes widened. "You _saw_ that? I mean, you saw something? I mean - What – what do you think you saw?"

Scully sighed. "I don't know what I saw. But whatever it was, you saw it, didn't you?"

"Uh…What do you want me to say?"

Scully brought her hand to her forehead and began rubbing a circle between her brows. "Maybe that I'm crazy." 

"No problem. You're crazy."

"See, that's funny because it's usually my line." But Scully didn't laugh.

She let her hand fall to her side, then moved down the porch to sit against the railing. "I've seen so many things in this job that I can't explain. But death? Death I understood. At least, I thought I did. Not just because I see it all the time, or because I've been close to it, myself. I'm a pathologist, you know. I figure out how people die all the time. But now – And I…I almost died. Twice. I never saw any one like you either time. I never saw what I saw today. Why is that?"

George went over and sat against the railing beside her. "Do you still want me to say that you're crazy?"

"Only if I am."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because if you are what Mulder thinks you are, and if I saw what I thought I saw –"

"Did you tell Agent Mulder that you thought you saw something?"

"No, of course not."

"Because he wouldn't believe you?" George asked.

"That's just it, he would, in a god-damned heartbeat. And I'd would've had to shoot him to stop him from coming here tonight," Scully said with a small grin on her face that George was sure wasn't meant for her.

"You're lucky to have someone like that."

"You are, too. Your so-called lawyer obviously looks out for you."

"He's something. Look, hypothetically, what if you did see something? Then what? What changes? Do your beliefs? You still believe in God, right?" George pointed to Scully's crucifix. "You still believe in life after death. So you might've seen a glimpse of how it might happen. What difference does it make? Does it mean you don't still do your job? You don't still live your life?"

Agent Scully turned, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath. Then she started down the steps of the porch. She said, as she walked away, "You are an interesting girl, Millie. You have a unique way of looking at things."

George called to her as she went to her door. "The secret, Agent Scully, is really just not giving a shit."


End file.
